


Love Like You

by TheSecondQueenOfSol



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/F, there is kind of a plot, this is purely self indulgent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-05-23 23:17:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14943197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSecondQueenOfSol/pseuds/TheSecondQueenOfSol
Summary: Ada is looking forward to a few blissful weeks of rest in the arms of her wife. Another hectic year is over, and the last magical mess has been mopped up. Well, so they thought.AKA the one where Ada and Hecate unofficially adopt the Hallow sisters (who haven't yet figured out their mums are married). And Mildred is there because we love Mildred.





	1. A Well-deserved Rest

**Author's Note:**

> With special thanks to cosmic-llin and nervouspearl for beta reading. Your feedback was invaluable. All mistakes are mine. Title from 'Love Like You' by Rebecca Sugar.
> 
> Drop me a line at themistsoftime on tumblr if you'd like! More chapters coming soon.

The face before Ada dissolved in a swirl of mist and magic and the mirror settled back into her reflection. She  shook her head, pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed deeply.

_If he wasn’t the Great Wizard…_

She took in a steadying breath and let the tension fall from her shoulders. At least the summer was here, and she had mopped up the last disaster from the year gone. No more drama. No more explosions. Two blissful months of quiet.

Even as she thought it, she found herself missing the girls terribly.

Ada stood from her desk and stepped to the window, watching as students and parents lifted off and zipped away over the horizon, farewelled by the black figure of Hecate.

Tomorrow Ada could sleep in.

As she watched the last gaggle of girls mount up and disappear into the sky, Ada wiggled her fingers gently, lifting the transparency illusion that cloaked her wedding ring. She ran her fingers over it, as she often did when it was invisible, and smiled.

She loved the girls. She loved the school. Truly, deeply. But it would be a very nice change to sleep late next her wife again.

Right on cue, Ada watched Hecate clasp the watch that hung around her neck and pop it open. Even at this distance, Ada could see her lift the face of the watch and remove the wedding ring that sat nestled among the cogs and levers, and slip it back onto her finger.

The sight warmed Ada to her core.

*****

That night most of the remaining staff left for their own homes and families. Mrs Tapioca said a brisk farewell before disappearing to a cottage in the middle of some far away wood that she refused to name, insisting they would get on just fine without her. 

Though she would never admit it, Ada was beyond relieved. She appreciated Tapioca’s dedication, but there was only so much pea soup one could consume in a single calendar year. Lucky for the remaining staff, Dimity broke out her not-so-secret talent, and whipped up a storm in the kitchen. Not a literal storm, of course, though it certainly sounded like it at times. It was a feast and a half. Roasts and vegetables in unusual and delicious sauces, greens and beans that tasted like spring, and desserts fit for the greatest of Great Wizards.

Algernon and Gwen set them a beautiful table in the hall, hanging candles in the air and weaving a blanket of vines overhead. Hecate summoned bundle after bundle of dry wood and built raging fires to warm them through the night. Ada, for the first time that year, broke the seal on a box of some unhallowed alcohol that had been aging in the dungeon for what must have been an inordinate amount of time, at the very least since before Alma Cackle’s time.

The five of them gathered up their glasses and toasted to the year behind and the year ahead, and set themselves up for a long night of gossip and laughter.

*****

Ada woke to the sun streaming through the window and the gentle scratching of a quill on paper.

“Morning, my love,” Ada hummed, opening her eyes before a sharp thudding pain manifested in her temple. “Oh…”

“Your head?” Hecate raised an eyebrow, mouth curling up slightly, but with no malice beneath.

“Worse than I would have expected.”

Hecate placed her papers aside and laid a hand on Ada’s forehead. She waved a hand to summon a glass of water and a vial of light blue liquid. “I have something for that.”

“Of course you do,” Ada yawned. “I don’t believe you’ve ever been caught unprepared.”

“No, I don’t believe I have,” Hecate nodded and pursed her lips, suppressing a smile as Ada chuckled softly. They both knew that was so unbelievably untrue.

Ada sat up, downed the potion and the water, and felt instant relief. “Oh, thank the moon I have you.”

Eight years in, and Hecate still blushed ever so slightly at Ada’s words.

They rose leisurely, in no hurry to be anywhere, and dressed into what could only be described as holiday attire. That is to say, Ada wore a well-worn pink cardigan, and Hecate settled on a dress without a high collar.

The pair came gliding down the stairs toward the kitchen at half ten, and found Dimity frying something delicious in a pan over the stove.

“Sleep well, you two?” Dimity said with a bright smile before hesitating. “Unless I don’t want to know in which case I don’t need any more details thanks.”

Hecate stopped short, eyes wider like a rabbit in a spotlight.

“No,” Ada said in her naturally tender tone. “I’m afraid I was rather quickly to sleep. That Dragonwine had quite a kick to it.”

“What about you, HB? Sleep alright?”

“Like a fox in winter,” Hecate replied, smoothing her features as she sat Ada down firmly with a look that said _Today, I get to take care of you_ , and moved to pour two cups of tea. “May I be of assistance, Dimity?”

“Yes, I was going to ask if you could whip up some of your famous berry pancakes.”

“I can, if the cupboard is well enough stocked.” Hecate materialised at an empty space by the bench and began summoning ingredients with swift movements here and there. Ada simply sat sipping her tea and watching, a small smile lighting up her eyes.

Today was a day of rest, and it stayed just that. Their late breakfast turned into tea in the library, Ada and Hecate reading their respective books and occasionally sharing some fascinating titbit. Tea became a late lunch and lunch became a walk in the sunshine and a gentle kiss in the garden, and that afternoon became a small, casual dinner with just the five of them dining on the remainders of last night’s wonder. Dinner became an early bedtime, and bedtime became the warmth of Hecate’s arms and early sleep, drifting off into the realm of dreams. 

*****

Ada woke on the second day to Hecate sitting up, her book in hand, dark hair cascading down her shoulders, reading by the sunlight streaming through the window. Ada found her breath caught in her chest. This was certainly the most desirable way to wake.

She said nothing, just watched Hecate read; watched her eyes fall down the page, how the corners of her mouth twitched when something pleased her, and how she pursed her lips when something didn’t.

“Morning, Mrs Hardbroom,” Ada hummed deeply, careful not to startle her.

Hecate’s eyes flicked down to hers, and she gently set her book aside, hand moving to brush the strands of hair from Ada’s face.

“Good morning, Mrs Cackle.”

Ada found when they started the morning this way, it usually went very well for her. Today was no exception.

A frustratingly short hour later they found their way downstairs to bustling kitchen, where Gwen and Algernon were packing themselves a lunch for the journey they’d be taking north, and Dimity was making herself a second breakfast after what appeared to be a morning run. Ada couldn’t think of a more unpleasant way to spend her time, but alas, if Dimity enjoyed it…

Dimity was practically leaping out of her skin with anticipation, babbling excitedly about a conference she’d been invited to attend, and Gwen looked to be ready for a few weeks away from the castle walls and cold stone passageways. It wasn’t even noon before Ada and Hecate were standing on the castle lawn, waving their three friends goodbye and wishing them a safe flight.

Ada found the afternoon air crisp on her cheeks, and beside her Hecate drew her arms around herself unconsciously. Ada looked up to the empty sky, and back to Hecate.

There was no one to see. No one to think anything of it.

She smiled and took Hecate’s hand gently.

“Cold?”

“It’s just a slight chill,” Hecate breathed, looking back to the castle. “Shall we?”

Ada simply nodded up at her, and surreptitiously cast a warming spell over her wife. She knew Hecate would feel the tingle spreading up her arm and across her body, and she hoped very much she would accept it without comment.

If it had been anyone else, Hecate would no doubt have banished the spell and transferred the offender to some distant corner of the Arctic. But it was Ada, and she accepted it without a word, leaning into the magic.

Ada pulled her down for a soft and welcome kiss and they parted ways. Hecate transferred away and Ada took the short walk to her office, in search of that mound of paperwork she’d neglected for more pressing concerns.

*****

It wasn’t past five yet when Ada’s mirror began to swirl and shift and a face appeared on the other side. It was Esmerelda Hallow, of all people, nervously tugging her collar as she waited for Miss Cackle to accept the call. Without a second thought, Ada dropped her quill and waved her hand.

“Well met, Esmerelda. What an unexpected pleasure,” Ada smiled, hand touching her forehead.

“Well met, Miss Cackle. I’m sorry to interrupt, I just… I wasn’t sure who else to call.”

“What’s the matter, dear?” Ada asked, sitting up a little and leaning in, concern flooding her face.

“It’s just, we came home two days ago, Sybil and Ethel and I, and I thought Mother and Father would be home. They hadn’t said otherwise. But they weren’t here, and… they still aren’t.”

Ada’s heart lurched. “They left no word? No note or call to say where they have gone?”

“No, but I mirrored Aunt Mavis and she said they’d mentioned they might be going away for a while, to recover from the stress of the year...”

Ada worked hard to keep the absolute contempt from her face. This was s new low, even for Ursula and Mr Hallow. 

“We were fine for a day or two. I thought they’d come back, and had just been held up. It’s only that, I don’t have any money, and there’s only so much in the kitchen. I don’t know that I should ask...”

Ada held up a hand. “Stop there, Esmerelda. I’m going to have a quick word with Miss Hardbroom and we’ll get this sorted out.”

Esmerelda nodded, anxiety plain on her usually calm and collected features.

Ada left the mirror’s spell active and transferred to the potion’s lab, where she found Hecate bent over a book, brow creased, scribbling notes on the page. At the sound of Ada’s transfer, she looked up, her smile disappearing as soon as she saw the look on her wife’s face.

“What is it?” Hecate asked urgently, straightening and dropping her quill to move to Ada.

Ada explained her call with Esmerelda, and it was all she could do not to curse Ursula and Mr Hallow as she spoke. Hecate’s face fell further with every word.

“My proposed solution is a little unorthodox. Students are not generally allowed to remain over the break,” Ada began, trying to broach her suggestion gently as not to dismay her rule abiding wife.

“But we shall make an exception?” Hecate probed, though the question was buried under layers of suggestion.

Ada blinked.

“Hecate, are feeling alright?” she asked, only half jovial. 

“They deserve better, Ada. If we must bend an already flexible rule to accommodate that, I suggest we do.”

“Of course. That was what I had in mind.”

“Then that is what we shall put to Esmerelda.”

“And if they’d prefer to stay at home?”

“We will accommodate that, and keep a watchful eye.”

Ada nodded, hoping it wouldn’t come to that. With a snap of Hecate’s fingers, they were in front of Esmerelda once more.

“Well met, Esmerelda,” Hecate nodded, face prepared blank as she lifted a hand to her forehead.

“Well met, Miss Hardbroom,” Esmerelda nodded, hand on forehead. Ada could see it shaking slightly.

“Esmerelda, we would like very much to help you and your sisters. We have a couple of suggestions, for your consideration,” Ada spoke gently, and Esmerelda’s face lit up at her words **.**


	2. (Not Quite a) Family Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Hallow sisters arrive, a little shaken, to a warm welcome from our favourite Headmistress and Deputy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More thanks to cosmic-llin for proofing! I hope you all enjoy!

Ethel and her sisters arrived back at Cackle’s not an hour later, transferred by a wave of Miss Cackle’s hand, clutching suitcases and broomsticks, their cats on their shoulders.

“Now, we have two options,” Miss Cackle began, clasping her hands in front of her. “First, you could settle back into your old rooms. Or we could find you three rooms nice and close together so you don’t have to go wandering about the place to find each other. What do you think best suits?”

Ethel looked to Esme, who seemed to read the distressed expression she wore and made the decision for them.

“I think we’d like to stay close together, if it’s all the same to you, Miss Cackle.”

HB materialised before the small party, and Ethel hated the pity that shone through in her gaze.

“Excellent,” HB nodded, raising her hand and in the blink of an eye the room was vanishing around Ethel. She found herself in a cosy room, fire crackling in the grate, a fresh bed made with clean sheets and an extra blanket.

Ethel dropped her bag to the floor and let the tears spill out of her eyes. Her parents had done a lot of unpleasant, unkind things, mostly to her. But leaving them without a word. This hurt most of all.

There was a gentle knock at the door, and Ethel jumped.

“Don’t come in!”

The door swung open despite her protests, and she found Esme and a teary Sybil rushing in to engulf her in a hug.

*****

Ada transferred to the kitchen to find Hecate beating the air out of a ball of dough with more aggression than was strictly necessary. Bread making was one of her wife’s many secret talents, and usually how she let off steam (of which she had a perpetual supply). Right now, she was using it as a punching bag.

“What an arrogant, insufferable woman. Pathetic. Three intelligent, hardworking children. Even Sybil, forgive her anxiety, has a competent witch buried in there somewhere, I’m sure. And she just left them there. No word. So she could go on some retreat…”

Hecate spat out the last word, and pulled her hand away from the dough. Ada realised with a sinking heart that in her frustration, Hecate had inadvertently cast a heating spell and begun baking the bread in her hands. Hecate took a deep breath and composed herself, casting a reversal spell to undo the damage, and tossed the bread into a tin then transferred it to the oven to cook properly.

“Is it helping?” Ada asked gently.

“No,” Hecate huffed as she moved to stir the soup on the stove with a little too much vigour. “But,” Hecate soothed, reading Ada’s concern, “I’ll be composed by dinner. How are they settling in?”

“As well as can be expected, I think,” Ada sighed, taking a seat at the bench. “I cast an empathy spell over their rooms, and I think they’re almost at okay.”

Hecate stopped her stirring, head snapping up. “Ada Cackle. You have surely not tied yourself to their emotions at a time like this?”

Ada said nothing, casting her eyes to the floor and examining the cracks in the table. She should really get that looked at.

“You know as well as I how dangerous that can be. Especially at a time like this.” Hecate dropped the wooden spoon onto a board and moved swiftly to her wife. Her voice was filled with concern, not anger. “You already feel these things so deeply. Please do not drag yourself down with them.”

“I had to know that they would be okay.”

“There are other ways to know,” Hecate insisted, lifting Ada’s chin.

“Am I to believe you didn’t cast some similar spell on the three of them?” Ada raised an eyebrow, and Hecate blinked, caught.

“I may have… placed a despair alert over them.”

“And that’s better?”

“For one, it’s not a constant. It only alerts me when there is real cause for concern. Ada, please lift the spell. An empathy tie on one person is risky. On three it is inviting disaster.”

Ada thought for a long moment, searching Hecate’s eyes for a lie, but there was none. She let her shoulders fall.

“Alright. You’re right. I just needed to be sure.”

“And are you satisfied?” 

“Enough,” Ada nodded, waving a hand over her heart and lifting the spell. She felt instantly lighter, and hated that she was relieved.

“Thank you,” Hecate breathed. “We can take care of them without drowning ourselves.”

Ada summoned a soft smile and Hecate kissed her forehead gently, before gathering herself and returning to the stove.

“What smells so delicious?”

“Pumpkin soup,” Hecate announced, sprinkling some herb or spice Ada didn’t recognise into the pot.

“May I be of assistance?” Ada asked, hopeful.

Even as she said it, she guessed at the answer. She had many a proud achievement, but one thing she could not do, under any circumstance, was cook. This Hecate knew very, very well, but she didn’t miss a beat, transferring the now-baked bread from the oven to a cutting board in front of Ada.

“Tell me if this is a passable loaf,” Hecate instructed, and Ada happily obliged, slicing off the end and humming gently in satisfaction as the warm bread touched her tongue.

“Passable is an insult. Easily your best yet.”

“You say that every time.”

“And on this, I am always right.”

Hecate smiled at that, before the sound of footsteps and conversation drifted in from the hallway and the Hallow sisters gingerly appeared around the corner, enveloped by an air of uncertainty. Esmerelda, Ethel and Sybil (who Ada noted was far more unsettled by events than her sisters) all stopped short at the sight of Hecate, spoon in hand over the stove, cooking. Her posture shifted instantly from wife to teacher.

Ada would never have dreamt of turning the girls away, but she did wish Hecate had the space to stay her gentler self, and not the steely Deputy Head of Cackle’s. Ada covered her falling heart with a bright smile. “Ready for dinner?” 

Ethel nodded, eyes still glued to Hecate, who raised an eyebrow in her direction.

“Perhaps you should make yourselves useful?”

“Of course,” Esmerelda leapt into action, gathering up plates and spoons and preparing to transfer them. Ethel skulked along behind her, and Sybil stayed quite still, frozen by uncertainty. 

“I was thinking, Esmerelda,” Ada spoke up, stopping Esme in her transference spell, “there’s a smaller dining hall just up the stairs. Much less draughty than the greater hall. I think we’ll dine in there tonight. If Hecate is agreeable?”

Hecate nodded. “Sensible enough.”

“Up the stairs and to the left,” Ada instructed. “There should be wood in the fireplace.”

The Hallows gathered up the necessary items and hurried out, keen to prove themselves useful. The footsteps receded and Ada could hear the mumble of something just indiscernible.

“Hecate?” Her wife raised an eyebrow.

“Yes dear. Is that not your name?” Ada gasped in mock surprise, feeling a little playful, before straightening her features when she was satisfied by Hecate’s slight smile. “They may be our students in term time, but I’m not going to spend the next however many weeks steeped in formality when I’ve been so looking forward to Mrs Hecate Hardbroom for months.”

Hecate lifted an eyebrow and Ada saw a little colour rise in her cheeks. “Acceptable. Ada. Now take yourself up to the dining hall and make sure they haven’t burned the place down.”

Ada’s eyes smiled, and she picked up the bread board. “Have a little faith.”

She found the girls cooperating rather nicely. Esmerelda knelt by the fire, casting a burning spell onto the wood in the grate, while Ethel and Sybil laid out the cloth and place settings.

Ada was pleased Hecate had been wrong. A few minutes later, when the room had warmed up slightly (with a little help from a heat distribution spell from Ada), Hecate appeared, ready to serve.

“Shall we take a seat then, girls?” Ada asked, though really, there was no question. Sybil had let slip that they’d not had a real meal since leaving Cackles. Mostly it had been whatever Esmerelda could remember how to cook. So mostly porridge and toast. Cooking was not a priority for witches. Usually that fell to their non-magical husbands, and in their house, Mr Hallow.

The sisters gathered quickly behind their chairs, but didn’t sit, as if waiting for Ada to take hers first.

Ada looked to them and nodded encouragement. “No need for that.”

They sat warily, glancing at Hecate, who said nothing and simply sat as well. When they were all settled, Hecate snapped her fingers and five bowls of pumpkin soup materialised before them, each decorated with a swirl of cream and a sprig of herb. With another wave of her hand, the bread sliced itself into even cuts and flew to their side plates.

“Shall we?” Ada asked Hecate, who nodded. “Dig in then, girls.”

They picked up their soup spoons and dipped cautiously into the soup before them, raising the spoons to their lips. Sybil gasped suddenly.

“Is something wrong?” Hecate froze.

“No, no,” Sybil said, shrinking away, and Ada’s heart sank at her fright. “It’s just so delicious. I didn’t… I didn’t expect it to taste this good.”

Ada nodded, and watched a satisfied Hecate resume eating.

“It’s delicious,” Ada reassured her.

“You would say that if I served you a wet sock, Ada,” Hecate deadpanned, and Esme struggled to keep in her snort.

“Have a little faith, dear,” Ada pursed her lips to supress a grin.

Sybil tore a corner of her bread and tasted it, eyes flying to Hecate’s watchful gaze.

“And?” Hecate asked, not quite gently.

Sybil just nodded, wolfing down the rest of the corner.

“Slowly now,” Hecate warned, and Sybil slowed to a more deliberate pace. “And you Ethel?”

Ethel froze. She couldn’t be further from the outgoing, arrogant and downright malicious girl who stalked the corridors in term time. She had shrunk into herself.

“It’s… it’s amazing,” Ethel nodded. It was clear she meant it too, because the bowl was almost empty already.

“Where did you learn to cook, H. Beh- sorry… Miss Hardbroom?” Esmerelda asked Hecate, looking a little sheepish at her stumble.

Ada watched her wife pause, spoon halfway to her lips, and place it back into her bowl, considering the three of them intently before speaking again.

“For the duration of your stay here, and _only_ for that time… you may call me HB. _Not_ a moment longer.”

Ethel looked to be on the edge of fainting, and Sybil was about to swallow her spoon.

“Okay… HB,” Esmerelda tried, and Hecate nodded. She would never breath a word of it, but Ada was certain didn’t absolutely hate being called HB. After all, she’d surely have crushed such rebellion immediately if she truly despised it.

“And in answer to your question, cooking is remarkably similar to brewing potions.”

*********

It took three days before Ada began to truly accept that Mrs and Mr Hallow would not be returning for their girls before the end of the week, or perhaps even the end of the break. She had mirrored the Grand High Mistress of Avalon at her (frankly, overhyped and underwhelming) relaxation retreat to enquire as to their whereabouts, and she had received curt words in response, and been informed that the Hallows had signed up and paid for a three-month treatment, which would not end for another eight weeks at the very least.

Ada waved her hand to end the call and leaned back in her seat. She worked very hard not to hate. She refused to fall into the same trap as her sister, despising the world and the people in it. Most days, she didn’t have to think about it. Today, she was actively quashing the disgust that crept into the corners of her heart. 

She stood, cast a quick finding spell, and transferred to the potions lab. Sure enough, Hecate was alone, bent over a cauldron, brow creased in concentration. Her head snapped up, and she gave the smallest of smiles when she saw Ada.

“Ada,” she greeted her, and tossed a powder into the cauldron, turning the liquid within deep green.

“I’ve been looking for Ursula.”

Hecate froze, straightened, and visibly smoothed her features, placing aside the spoon and approaching. “And?”

“It’s true. They’re on a retreat. Another eight weeks… at least.”

Hecate’s mouth twitched. “And no plans for the girls?”

“None that I can discern.”

“I don’t suppose you have any black scorpion blood, do you?”

“We are not cursing them, Hecate.”

“It would be temporary.”

Ada raised an eyebrow.

“Very well,” Hecate breathed deeply. “I won’t curse them.”

“Good. For now, we house the girls. That is all.”

“This is beyond the scope of our responsibility, Ada.”

“Are you suggesting we turn them away?”

“No, never. I’m suggesting we have words with an authority higher than ourselves, and higher than Ursula. What would they have done if we had not been here, our door open? By all accounts their aunt Mavis Hallow is mad as a box of frogs, and I doubt very much that any other Hallows would take in the children of Ursula after she lost her position on the council. That family is a snake pit.”

Ada paused, the cogs in her mind ticking over.

“We would not do well to hide this, Ada,” Hecate spoke softly, shoulders relaxing as she tilted her head to read her wife’s face.

“No, you’re right, of course.”

“I can speak with him, if you would prefer?”

“Perhaps together?”

“Together.”


	3. (Two Words) …and the Second is Hubble.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another child is thrown into the mix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your support and encouragement! And thank you particularly to @cosmic-llin for beta reading! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

It was a rare occasion indeed that the Great Wizard was lost for words, but there they sat, his reflection sputtering and glaring through the mirror at no one in particular. She had framed the situation in the very best light, because of course she had. She had, as she always did, recommended he keep the punishments lenient, for the girls’ sake, but his response had simply been, “Not this time!”.

With that, he asked that they house the Hallow sisters until they could find more suitable arrangement, and then disconnected with a look of pure venom. Ada was very glad it was not directed at them, this time at least. She was content knowing they had done the right thing.

However, if the Hallow sisters thought their holidays at Cackle’s would be all picnics in the grounds and late nights by the fire, they had another thing coming. Esmerelda had missed a full year of school, Ethel refused to concentrate on anything except sabotaging Mildred Hubble, and Sybil was still and always had been a nervous wreck. Ada turned to read the lines on Hecate’s face, and guessed she might be thinking much the same thing.

*****

Ada went restlessly to sleep, waking and tossing all night as she considered the fate of  the Hallows. It must have been almost two hours past midnight when she rolled over and opened her bleary eyes to find Hecate wide awake, mind ticking over in the dark. She let out a thin sigh through her smile.

“You’re thinking about tutoring them, aren’t you?”

She knew Hecate could never lie when she gave her these eyes. “More than thinking about it.”

“Alright, dear,” Ada said, shifting to lay an arm around her. “Think more about it in the morning. Sleep for now.”

Hecate relaxed into her warmth and obeyed, content for now, and Ada fell into a deep sleep a few minutes later.

When they awoke in the morning, Hecate moved to slip from the bed without disturbing Ada. But she was already awake, and reached up to grasp Hecate’s wrist softly.

“Give them one more day.”

“Pardon?” Hecate leaned back to listen.

“Give them one more day of rest. One day to settle in properly. Draw up a timetable, get everything in order.”

“They’ve had three already.”

“Please.”

Hecate paused and regarded Ada properly, her laughter lines lit up in the morning sunlight. She opened her mouth, and then decided against it, bighting back sarcasm. “Tomorrow?”

“Perfect. And I’ll take Esme for chanting and spell science,” Ada mumbled, rolling back over.

“You… will?” Hecate asked.

“I will,” Ada nodded, closing her eyes with finality, and rolling back over for another few minutes of rest.

*****

Ada was scanning through a stack of new applicants when the mirror in her office went cloudy and she saw the anxious face of Mildred Hubble taking deep, steadying breaths. Ada put aside her paper and waved her hand to accept the call. 

“Well met, Mildred Hubble.”

“Well met, Miss Cackle,” Mildred chirped, touching a hand to her forehead.

“What can I do for you? You are well, I trust?”

 “Yes, I’m doing great. I was just wondering if, maybe, if it’s not too much…” Mildred trailed off, suddenly shy.

“Yes?” Ada prompted.

“If it’s not too much trouble, I was wondering, seeing as I live just down the mountain, and it’s barely a few minutes to fly, I was wondering, if Miss Hardbroom is okay with it, of course, if I might get some extra potions classes during this holidays? If you’re not busy, I mean, and she’s not busy. It’s just I’d rather not spend another year as the worst witch at the academy. And being from a witching family, I thought Miss Hardbroom would maybe say yes.”

Ada wasn’t entirely sure whether Mildred had taken a breath during her clearly prepared spiel. She nodded with a smile, because of course she did.

“Why not ask her yourself?” Ada smiled.

Mildred made a face halfway between a sheepish smile and a grimace.

“I thought she’d be more likely to say yes, you know, if it came from you.”

Ada looked over the top of her glasses at the nervous ball in front of her, and nodded. “I’ll speak with her, and get back to you.”

“Thank you Miss Cackle. I hope it’s not too much trouble!”

“No trouble at all, Mildred. Keep an eye out for my call.”

“I will!”

With another wave Mildred’s face dissolved.

The headmistress sat there for a long moment and then shook her head softly. She wasn’t wrong about Hecate. Ada stood and transferred to the potions lab to find Hecate holding aloft a chameleon patterned with the lines of a bookshelf.

“Hecate?”

Hecate turned, smiling gently. “Yes dear?”

“Dear,” Ada smiled. “The chameleon?”

Hecate looked down at her arm. “Ah.” With a snap she transferred it back to the bookshelf where it blended in seamlessly, and turned to give Ada her full attention.

“I just spoke with a very nervous Mildred Hubble.”

Hecate stiffened. “Please don’t tell me she’s gone and blown up her home or herself with some unauthorised potion.”

“She would like extra lessons.”

Hecate blinked, eyes wide, working very hard to suppress a smile. “Now?”

“During the holidays, whenever you’re free.” Ada’s heart lifted as she watched Hecate work hard to hide her deep affection for her most disaster-prone student.

“That sounds… acceptable.”

Ada nodded. “Then I’ll let her know.”

“Tomorrow. Eleven sharp, and no second chances. I think it will work quite nicely, with the Hallows being here too.”

“Of course.” Ada nodded, straight-faced, watching Hecate’s heart sing beneath the stone. “I was thinking, Hecate. It’s never been a secret, as such, but… well, should we tell the girls we’re married?”

Hecate glanced down at the ring that glinted on her finger. “It’s no secret.”

“No, it certainly isn’t.”

“Let them come to it themselves.”

And come to it they did. It took a little longer than Ada would have expected, but nevertheless, they got there.

***** 

Sybil balled up her hand into a fist, eyes glistening as she tried to understand what on earth ‘Tooth of Earl, Beard of Hog’ was supposed to mean.

“I really am the worst witch,” she groaned to herself.

“You most certainly are not,” said a sharp voice, and Sybil felt terror clasp her heart. HB had returned, and didn’t look pleased. “That title belongs to Mildred Hubble. Now, pull yourself together. You’re brewing a colour-changing potion. A proper one, this time.”

Sybil nodded vigorously and dashed to her cauldron, flipping open her potions book. But then she stopped, and looked at HB properly.

“But what if I… what if…” Sybil started, her voice catching. “What if I really just can’t? What if I was adopted or something and I’m not really a Hallow at all?”

HB opened her mouth, and Sybil expected a sharp word on how ‘a witch doesn’t complain’ or something, but instead, her teacher’s face softened ever so slightly.

“You know, the first time I brewed a colour-changing potion, my right hand was a cascading rainbow for a month.”

Sybil blinked. “Really?”

HB gave her a singular nod.

“Why tell me that?”

“Do you think anyone will believe you?”

Sybil’s face fell. “No, I suppose not.”

HB set a jar of something deep purple beside Sybil’s cauldron and pursed her lips.

“It’s our secret then.”

Sybil’s face lit up, and she could have sworn HB’s little cough was her trying to cover a smile.

“Don’t forget this one,” HB tapped the top of the jar and transferred to her own desk. “You have one hour. And I’ll be here, watching carefully.”

“Are Esme and Ethel coming too?”

“Esme is with Ms Cackle, and Ethel is collecting Mildred. I’m sure they’ll both be here shortly.”

“Mildred… Hubble?”

“Yes.”

HB said it with such finality, Sybil didn’t think it wise to ask further.

*****

Mildred landed with a small stumble and righted herself, a huge grin on her face. This was step one. No more being the worst witch. She raised a hand to knock on the enormous wooden doors towering over her. Her hand fell on air as the door swung open, and Mildred blinked at the familiar face sneering out at her.

“Ethel? You’re…here. At school.”

“I seeing having a witching bloodline hasn’t improved your eyesight,” Ethel bit back.

“No, I didn’t… I just meant...”

“You’re late. HB is waiting in the potions lab.”

Ethel turned and stalked down the corridor. A stunned Mildred just shrugged and hurried after her.

When they swung the classroom door open, Mildred was surprised to find Sybil Hallow there, frowning nervously over her own cauldron.

“Mildred Hubble. You’re here. Take your places,” HB nodded toward their waiting cauldrons. “Open your books. Today, you will prepare a transform-animation spell.”

She transferred over and dropped a teacup onto the desk in front of Mildred, summoning another for Ethel.

“Turn this teacup into a frog. You have one hour.”

Mildred had barely found the spell in her book when Ethel started tossing ingredients into her cauldron, giving her a snide side-eye. She could just hear the scornful “You really are the worst witch”. Mildred righted herself and took a deep breath. This was not ideal. She’d wanted to practice without Ethel glaring over her shoulder, just her and HB. But this would have to do. She needed the help. She needed to not be the worst, or even the second worst.

Mostly, they brewed in silence. Twice, Mildred returned from the storeroom and found Ethel hovering at her desk. The blond girl always smirked and stalked back to her own desk, and Mildred didn’t want to expect the worst, but she didn’t believe for a second Ethel hadn’t done something to her potion.

Just as Mildred’s potion turned a sickly green, Ethel’s glistened gold and Mildred’s heart sank.

“HB,” Ethel raised her hand, and the potion mistress turned, brow raised.

Mildred’s eyes boggled. She’d just called her HB. To her face. In front of her.

“I think it’s ready.”

HB transferred over, and Mildred expected a rant about proper etiquette and the disgraceful informality of nicknames and how discipline was more important than sociability. Instead, HB just peered into her cauldron.

“The consistency seems acceptable. The colouring is certainly correct. Very well, you may test it.”

Mildred couldn’t help it, and she spluttered out a “Did you just… did she just… call you HB?”

 “Yes. I did,” Ethel smirked, and Miss Hardbroom turned to Mildred, face smooth.

“Can… can I?” Mildred asked tentatively.

Miss Hardbroom seemed to consider it for a very long moment, before she nodded.

“Yes. But only for the duration of the break, and only when I do not say otherwise.”

“Yes Miss… HB.”

She nodded stiffly, and turned back to Ethel, who lifted a ladleful out and poured it into the teacup before raising a hand lazily over it and commanding, “Stone of quartz, splint of log, take this cup, and make a frog!”

A swirl and a squeak later, and HB caught a tiny green frog as it leapt off the table.

“Very well done, Ethel,” she murmured, examining it closely before summoning an empty jar and slipping it inside, placing it in front of Ethel. “Now change it back.”

She spun to face Mildred. “And how did…” she trailed off as she spotted the green sludge in Mildred’s cauldron. “I see.”

Mildred glared at the snickering Ethel, and decided that there really was nothing to lose. “It was Ethel. I’m pretty sure she was putting stuff in my cauldron when I was in the storeroom!”

“I did not. Liar!” Ethel spat.

Mildred opened her mouth to retort, but HB snapped her fingers and they both fell silent.

“I resent truth spells, Ethel Hallow. Do not make me use one.”

Ethel nodded, trying her best not to look terrified. “Yes, Miss Hardbroom.”

“Did you tamper with Mildred’s potion?”

“Technically, she did the tampering. I just… switched the vials.”

HB breathed in deeply and out through her nose, closing her eyes momentarily before opening them to give the two girls a death glare.

“From now on, Ethel will test every potion Mildred brews. And Mildred will do the same for Ethel.”

“But that’s not-” Ethel gasped.

“Every. Single. One,” HB enunciated, staring forward, teeth gritted.

“But what if I get turned into something and can never change back?! Or get blown up?! Or die?!”

“Then I imagine Mildred will finally be expelled, and you will die happy.”

Ethel had no words for that, just stared at HB like a dizzy goldfish.

Mildred suddenly found herself seriously contemplating her own capabilities.

*****

The next lesson started off far better. Ethel stopped switching out ingredients, and started actually offering helpful advice. Too much pondweed and not enough ground sparrow bone. A pinch, not a sprinkle, of Dead Sea Salt. Until she started watching over Mildred shoulder, ignoring her own potion altogether, knocking Mildred’s hand this way and that, tossing in ingredients, fighting over Mildred’s wooden spoon.

Mildred caught Sybil watched them, slightly terrified, glancing at HB who sat reading at her desk.

“Three times counter-clockwise. You did four and now I might die!” Ethel shrieked, yanking the spoon from Mildred’s hand, pulling her forward and knocking Mildred’s cauldron off its stand, sending them clattering down as sticky blue liquid spilled over the floor.

HB materialised over them with a whoosh, eyes wide and furious.

“What is the meaning-”

But Mildred was angry, and she’d had enough. She clambered up and spun on Ethel.

“I hate you. I was doing it fine until you ruined everything. I _hate_ you!” Mildred shouted at Ethel, throwing down a girdleroot and storming out.

She didn’t look back, and was steaming all the way out the castle front door, and began stomping her way through the garden. With every step, she calmed rapidly, and eventually found herself at a long stone bench, feeling sheepish about her outburst. HB probably wouldn’t let her back into the classroom. She’d probably be expelled. For real this time.

There she sat, thinking, wondering if she should just fly away and come back when the next term started and hope they’d let her in. The thought made tears spring to her eyes, and she tried furiously to brush them away.

She heard the gentle crunching of boots on stone, and looked up to find HB stepping toward her tentatively, all fury gone from her eyes. She didn’t speak, just moved to the bench and lowered herself stiffly beside Mildred.

Mildred didn’t know what to say. She thought an apology might be a good place to start.

“I’m… I’m sorry about the mess,” she croaked out, not looking HB in the eye.

“Messes can be cleaned up.”

They sat there for another long, unbroken moment, before Mildred felt compelled to explain herself.

“I hate her,” she mumbled.

She felt HB glance down at her, but didn’t dare look up.

“You don’t hate her,” came HB’s considered response. “She frustrates you. You dislike her dishonesty, her cruelty, her arrogance, even. But you do not hate her. Hate is something that blackens the heart. It turns good people cruel.”

Mildred looked up at her, eyes wide, to find her teacher staring forward, considering the shrubbery.

“Do not hate, Mildred Hubble. Or you might end up like me.”

Mildred looked down at her fingers, twisting them around each other. The more she knew of HB, the less terrible that seemed.

“Is there anyone you hate?”

“I try very hard not to. I do not always succeed.”

Mildred felt something bold bubble up in her chest.

“Who?”

HB swallowed hard and seemed to consider her words.

“No one you know, or will ever meet.” HB frowned, eyes set firm. “But, we do have a potions lab to clean, and a rather shaken Sybil to console.”

“I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to work with Ethel anymore. It’s okay if you don’t want to teach us both. I’ll just… I’ll just come back when the summer is over.”

HB’s brow creased. “That will not be necessary. You will be working only with Sybil from now on. Ethel will work with Esmerelda.”

“So I… you’ll still help with my potions?”

“Yes, Mildred. I made…a mis…” HB coughed, like something caught in her throat. “A mis… take. I thought Ethel could be reasonable. But I fear I asked too much.”

“It won’t happen again,” Mildred grinned, the bounce returning to her voice. “I promise.”


	4. I Just Adore You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the rather lengthy delay, but I'll be finishing this fic up soon. Also, this story is becoming less coherent plot and more pure wish fulfilment. I have decided to embrace it, so I hope you enjoy this pure Hackle fluff. Title from _Love Like You_ by Rebecca Sugar.

Ada was poised to summon another cup of tea when Hecate burst through the door of her office, hair flying free and eyes wild. In a moment Ada had snapped her book shut and stood, fear constricting her lungs. Goddess protect whoever had caused this distress.

“Hecate?”

“I love you!” her wife blurted out, hands flying to her mouth, colour rising in her cheeks. It was a confession, not a statement. A confession that needn’t have been.

“I know, dear,” Ada nodded, moving forward and trying not to startle her. “I love you too.”

“You do?”

“We’re married, my love. Seven years next week.” 

“We are?” Hecate innocent eyes grew wide.

“Yes, we are,” Ada sent a tendril of magic out, probing, still stepping forward as a deep concern set in. “What has happened, my love?”

“I… I don’t remember,” Hecate’s face crumpled, confused. “Why don’t I remember?”

Ada took her hand gently and sensed the anxiety antidote beneath the surface. An anxiety antidote with the distinct feel of Mildred Hubble's magic, and something stronger over it, something she couldn’t place, but had the feel of Sybil Hallow.

“Why don’t I remember?” Hecate clasped her face, panic forming.

Ada lifted her wife's hands away and wiped a tear from her cheek, trying to remain steady and calm in the face of her distress.

“Maybe you’ll remember this?” She leaned in a touched her lips to Hecate’s, not too forward, and not too much. Her wife grew still, and then after a moment, melted into her arms. When they shifted apart Hecate’s eyes were still closed, and her voice small and uncertain.

“I remember wanting it. More than anything.”

Her eyes fluttered open and she seemed to spot her wedding ring for the first time, blinking rapidly and holding it to her face.

“Oh, look it’s a…” She gasped. “I’m married… _I’m married!_ ”

Ada barely registered the words before suddenly Hecate was spinning her around, releasing her and rushing for the door.

“I have to tell Dimity! And…” she froze in the doorway. “Pippa. She would want to know. She’d be happy, I think. And I must tell Gwen! I must tell everyone!”

Ada could only stare dumbfounded as Hecate whirled into a transference spell and out of sight.

“Miss Cackle!” Mildred came sprinting up the corridor, looking awfully guilty, followed closely by a dishevelled Sybil.

“Please, it’s Ada for the holidays,” Ada clasped her hands in front of herself. “And what have you done to poor Hecate? Not another personality changing potion, I hope.”

“No, no we wouldn’t dare. It was just… we were brewing…”

She was cut off by the swirling reappearance of Hecate, now carrying a large bouquet of roses and tossing them about the room.

“Ada! Ada, Ada, Ada!” She giggled, dancing around office, slipping roses between books and laying them with care across Ada’s desk.

Mildred could barely contain her giggle, but Sybil was very pale and slightly green.

Hecate placed the last rose on a nearby lamp and looked down, crestfallen as she stared at her empty hands and the distinct lack of roses. Her smile returned instantly when Ada slipped a steaming cup into their place.

“Have a cup of tea, dear, and we’ll see if we can get you fixed up,” Ada smiled, laying a hand on her forearm to keep her from transferring away again.

Without so much as a breath, Hecate downed the entire cup and tossed in over her shoulder, giving Ada only a split second to snap her fingers and vanish the cup before it could shatter across the floor.

“Why would I want to stop feeling like this?” Hecate beamed, spinning out of Ada’s hand and into the next room, humming softly to herself.

“I think the two of you,” Ada turned to Mildred and Sybil, wrestling to keep her tone soft, “should find an antidote to whatever it is you’ve given her.”

“We didn’t give her anything,” Mildred said hurriedly. “I mean, we didn’t mean to.”

“Well then, explain, please. And keep it short.”

Mildred looked to Sybil, who as drawing very shallow breathes.

“I was brewing an anxiety antidote, and Sybil…”

“I was making a forgetting potion,” Sybil squeaked. “But I… I don’t think I did it right.”

“I see, and Hecate had both?”

“Well, no, she tested mine, and then sort of, tripped and fell into Sybil’s…” Mildred admitted.

“Well, I think that about explains it. Both of you, find a cure for your potions, and I’ll be down to potions lab as soon as I can find Hecate.”

With a snap of her fingers, they dissolved from the office. Ada raised her hands to cast a finding spell, only to have them taken up by a dancing Hecate as she spun into her grip.

“Dance with me, Ada! My beautiful wife!” she commanded, and Ada couldn’t help but smile up at her, hair flowing, a sense of wonder painted across her face.

_So, this is what it’s like in that head of yours…_

*****

“Ada, look!”

Ada’s head snapped up to find Hecate stirring a potion with such enthusiasm she couldn’t help but shake her head in amusement.

“This one turns everything pink!”

Before Ada could suggest that perhaps that was not, in fact, a good idea, her wife had tossed the ladle down, turning the desktop a soft shade of pink.

“But look, it doesn’t work on organic material!” Hecate plunged her whole arm into the cauldron, and Mildred and Sybil gaped at her as she drew it out again. Sure enough, the sleeve of her robe was completely dyed, and her hand was pale as ever.

“It’s so useless! But it’s your favourite colour, so it’s not so useless, I think,” she beamed, and Ada just nodded, unable and unwilling to pull the smile from both of their faces. Passionate as ever, even like this.

“That’s very clever, my dear. Very clever indeed.”

Ada turned her gaze back to Hecate’s desk and shifted her fingers over the ingredients list, and realised quickly that this wasn’t Hecate’s textbook. It was standard issue, and lacked her wife’s spindly corrections.

“Hecate, my dear, might I borrow your personal potions book?”

In a second Hecate was leaping toward them, a leather bound manual materialising in her grip.

“Anything for you!” She placed it in Ada’s hand and floated away again, hovering over an empty cauldron, no doubt about to construct another frivolous masterpiece.

When Ada looked back to the book she caught site of Mildred, staring up at her curiously, clearing a question on her lips.

“Yes, Mildred?”

“Can I ask you something kind of personal?”

“You can certainly ask,” Ada nodded, flipping open the book and immediately finding comfort in the lines and lines of corrections Hecate had scribbled across every potion.

“I won’t tell her, but… are you… do you love HB?”

Ada looked across at her, peering over her glasses wondering if this was really the best time. Well, she certainly wasn’t going to lie.

“Yes, I do.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Mildred blushed and Ada lay a steadying hand on her shoulder.

“Mildred, we’re married,” she said softly, lifting up her hand to display the wedding ring glinting there.

Mildred’s eyes nearly popped right out of her head, and she let out a small “Oh… that explains a lot.”

“Now, I’d rather like to have my wife back, if you wouldn’t mind passing me the splinter of sparrow bone.”

The girl nodded hurriedly, passing over the jar in question and glancing between the headmistress and her deputy, no doubt trying to reconcile this new piece of information with the past two years of life at Cackle’s.

*****

That evening, when Mildred had flown home and the Hallow sisters where safely tucked away into their beds, Ada sat by the crackling fire in her office, Hecate taking her seat opposite and pretending to be engrossed in a copy of _Crystal Witches and Crystal Magic: A History of Stones, Gems and Jewels in Witching_. Pretending, Ada knew, because she hadn’t shifted the page in over three minutes, and Hecate was an exceptionally speedy reader.

“I can see you thinking, my love. And you know I wouldn’t question it, but if it’s about today…”

Hecate shut her book without marking the page, and began wringing her hands in her lap. Ada felt a harsh pang of distress ripple out into the room on a wave of magic.

“It is about today.”

Ada set her own book aside and gave her full attention. Hecate didn’t meet her eyes, turning instead to gaze at the fire, her words coming steadily as she chose each with intention.

“It’s about who I became under all those potions. I wasn’t sure if… if that was, perhaps, someone you would prefer.”

Ada raised her brow and internally shook her head. After all these years, her magnificent wife still had so much unwarranted self-doubt.

“I didn’t marry her, did I?” Ada challenged, taking up her tea and sipping it.

“No, I suppose you didn’t,” Hecate smoothed her dress, clearly unconvinced.

“Oh, I know I didn’t,” Ada nodded. “And I wouldn’t have.”

Hecate met her gaze, concern evident. “You wouldn’t?”

“No, I don't think I would. It’s quiet simple, my love," she set her cup aside again. "She’s not you. Certainly, she looked like you, and occasionally she sounded like you, and she loved me, I think, as you do. But she wasn’t you. I didn’t marry you for some alter ego. I married you, for you. I desperately hope that you understand that.”

Hecate nodded, eyes glistening. “I think… I do now.”

Ada slipped from her seat to kneel in front of Hecate’s, taking a fidgeting hand in her own and holding her steady.

“If it means anything, I was so very worried, all the time she was here, that I’d never see you again,” she said gently, trying to pour honesty into every word. “I was so scared, and I’m beyond overjoyed, and beyond relieved, that you returned to me.”

Hecate gave a tiny nod. “That does mean… that is a relief.”

Ada smiled up at her, running a thumb along her wrist. “Kiss me?”

Hecate did, without hesitate, and let go of her hand only so that she could pull her closer.

“Thank you,” she whispered against her neck.

“I love you,” Ada said softly. “Please, always remember that.”

“It is just… sometimes it is difficult to understand why.”

“Not for me,” Ada leant back and held her face, making certain she could see the truth in her eyes. “It has never been difficult to love you.”

Ada’s mirror chimed and she was going to skin whoever was calling alive, at least until she turned and found Pippa Pentangle perched on the other side, maglet in hand and a concerned twist in her brow.

Hecate sighed apologetically and Ada shifted out of her arms, standing and letting her moved to the desk without a word. It had been a very long time since she had felt the need to seek permission to accept calls at Ada’s desk, and the small familiarity of the gesture calmed Ada’s uneasiness. Nothing had changed. Not really.

Hecate waved her hand to accept the call and relief flooded the pink witch’s face.

“Hiccup! Is everything okay? Only I’ve just picked up my maglet and found a rather lengthy letter under your name and… well, it all seems rather unlike you.”

Hecate let out a soft groan and pursed her lips. “Please, delete that.”

Ada tried to surreptitiously covered her grin with one hand, only half succeeding.

“You didn’t answer the question, Hiccup.”

“I am… well. Now. It was a simple mishap in the potions lab. Two poorly mixed potions.”

Pippa put her maglet down and rubbed her brow. “Please tell me your students didn’t drug you again.”

“It was an honest mistake, this time at least.”

“Yes, well, I always knew you could be a little oblivious but being married seven years and not realising seemed a stretch, even for you,” Pippa teased, lifting the maglet into view again with a raised eyebrow.

“It was a forgetting potion. I had… forgotten.”

Pippa’s face fell. “Oh, Hiccup...”

Hecate stayed silence, her shoulders fallen slightly, and Ada was up in a heartbeat, resting what she hoped were comforting hands on her wife’s shoulders. Pippa looked to her and smiled.

“Well met, Ada. Wonderful to see you.”

“Well met, Pippa, and the sentiment is shared,” Ada nodded warmly, and she felt Hecate sit up a little straighter beneath her touch, collecting herself. “I must say, a lengthy message wasn’t all she left behind.”

She gestured around the office to the red roses still scattered about, and Hecate blushed, averting her eyes.

“I always knew she was a romantic at heart,” Pippa chuckled, and Hecate gave a half-hearted scowl.

“Oh, I already knew that,” Ada gave her shoulder a squeeze. "She doesn't hide it well."

“I don’t see why I need be present to suffer this slander,” Hecate said curtly, but there was no edge to her voice.

“Now, now, sweetheart,” Ada kissed her temple. “It’s all in jest.”

“Pippa, you really must come to dinner before the break ends,” Hecate said, changing the subject abruptly, though neither of the other witches objected.

“I would love to,” Pippa beamed, clapping her hands together. “We have so much to discuss. Far too much for any mirror call.”

“Actually,” a thought suddenly struck Ada, and she wasn’t sure why it was only just coming to her now. She pulled up a seat and lowered herself beside Hecate, taking her hand as to make certain she did not break their connection, keeping her wife in the present, keeping her mind from wandering into dark places. “There is something I would like to ask you. It’s not generally something we’ve had trouble with in the past, but perhaps you have some experience.”

“With?” Pippa sat up, the teacher in her coming out.

“Students left in our care outside of the usual structures. That is, we’re currently caring for three sisters who have been, I don’t want to say abandoned, but… overlooked, by their parents.”

“Abandoned,” Hecate said, soft but firm. “They were abandoned.”


	5. Breakfast and Bad News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to add another chapter because this one ran a bit long again, but the more the merrier, right? Also, this one hurts a bit, but it gets super sweet next chapter so hang in there.

When Ada transferred to the kitchen for breakfast the next morning, she found Hecate standing at the table, eyes scanning over a letter. Sybil sat across from her, bent over a bowl of porridge, still rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Good morning,” Ada lowered herself to a seat at the table, and Hecate pushed a cup of tea toward her.

“Morning,” Sybil mumbled.

“Good morning, Ada,” Hecate smiled softly, not looking up from the letter in her hand, and Ada recognised the soft expression on her face. It was one she reserved for two other people, and the parchment in hand was definitively not pink, so therefore there was only one explanation. Her suspicions were confirmed when Hecate folded the letter and placed it onto the table in front of her, moving to pour herself a cup of tea. It was addressed to _H. Hardbroom and A. Cackle_ in the unmistakably clumsy handwriting of Alpheus Hardbroom.

“How is he?” Ada asked, flipping open the letter and finding far too many words to read this early in the day.

“Alive, thank the goddess. Returning from Bolivia tomorrow, and if you’re amenable, he seems to have invited himself around, probably sometime next week.”

“That sounds lovely,” Ada smiled into her teacup, quietly smirking at the fond exasperation in Hecate’s voice. “How long will he be with us?”

“Only a day or two, if we can pin him down.”

Ada chuckled, tender memories of her charming and capricious little brother bubbling to the surface.

“That makes three, if we’re having Mildred’s mother around on Wednesday and Pippa on Friday.”

“I don’t think Pippa would mind postponing a week, if you’d like?”

Ada considered it, and was rather enamoured with a solution that struck her.

“Why don’t we make a night of it? I have no doubt Pippa would reschedule if it meant she could see Alph, and perhaps exposure to magical culture outside of this school will do Ms Hubble some good.”

“Are you suggesting we host an impromptu dinner party?” Hecate raised her brow.

Ada just leant over and kissed the scowl from her lips. “It’s hardly impromptu with a week’s notice, dear.”

Sybil snorted, and Ada jumped a little. She’d forgotten she was there, and apparently, so had Hecate, as she gave the girl a startled look and turned back to Ada. She smoothed her features, clearly trying to reinstate ‘HB’ levels of composure.

“Anything less than twenty days is impromptu,” she said straight-faced, clasping her hands behind her back.

“Whatever you say, dear.”

“Anyone else you would like to invite? Your mother perhaps?” Hecate offered, voice gilded with sarcasm.

“She’s up north with her coven.”

“How disappointing.”

“Now, now,” Ada patted her hand and stood to fetch herself some porridge. “She’s very fond of you, you know.”

“I never said I wasn’t fond of her.”

Ada just sighed through a smile and shook her head. Hecate’s relationship with her mother was far from adversarial, but it was, on occasion, slightly strained. Entirely on account of Hecate having some serious reservations about the way she treats her daughters, reservations which Hecate had voiced and Ada agreed with, but only in private.

There was a clattering of footsteps and Esme and Ethel ventured into the kitchen. Still yawning, they approached the table as casually as possible, but Ada noticed they seemed a little more reserved than usual, though perhaps that was to be expected given what was happening in their lives.

“Good morning.”

“Morning,” they mumbled and settled into the seats beside Sybil.

Ada wondered at their sheepishness, and then she watched Esme’s stare flick to her teacup, and the hands wrapped around it. Specifically, the ring that adorned her finger. So the gossip had spread.

Hecate summoned two bowls of porridge with a swish of her finger and pushed them toward the new arrivals, not missing a beat as she summoned a newspaper and pulled it open to read.

Ada considered the situation. It appeared the time had arrived to lay everything out in the open.

“Go on then,” she said encouragingly, looking to Esme and Ethel. “Ask whatever you want.”

Thankfully, they didn’t try and play it off as nothing. No, instead Ethel began shovelling porridge into her mouth and left the questions to her sister.

“Was Mildred telling the truth then?” Esme asked, still tentative, though Ada was having trouble reading why. “Are you… married?”

Hecate’s newspaper folded in half and she met her query with a smirk.

“Yes,” she said before Ada could respond, and Sybil stared at them, wide eyed, but remained silent.

Esme sat up a little, porridge forgotten. “How long?”

“Seven years,” Ada smiled at her wife. “Well, seven years next week.”

Ethel’s shovelling stopped suddenly, and her head snapped up to look between them.

“Seven _years_?” she gaped.

“Yes, Ethel,” Hecate said coolly, daring her to step out of line.

Ethel’s brow creased as she considered it. “That… makes a lot of sense.”

“How so?” Ada asked, genuinely curious.

“Well, it’s just that, HB is, I mean you’re the only person HB doesn’t umm… you know, actually, it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m the only person she doesn’t direct her temper to?”

Hecate looked to her, half-heartedly indignant. “I do not have a _temper_.”

Ada patted her hand affectionately, giving a soft, reassuring smile. “I think you’ll find you do, dear, but it’s just fine by me. Keeps them all in line, so I don’t have to show mine.”

“Yes, well,” Hecate huffed, sipping her tea.

“So, umm,” Esme said, fiddling with her spoon. “Do you have any children?”

“No,” Ada took Hecate’s hand, both as a display of solidarity and to keep her from saying something she’d regret. “Though you never know.”

“Do you want children?” Esme was feeling very bold today, apparently.

“That is a very personal question,” Hecate stiffened, and her fingers tightened around Ada. “And one we will not answer.”

“Sorry,” Esme blushed. “I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“It’s okay, dear,” Ada offered warmly. “I know it’s a very curious thing, to find out your teachers are married.”

“It’s not that,” Esme shook her head. “It just that, all those times Agatha was trying to take over the school, or the Great Wizard was trying to shut us down, or even… even when mother and father were trying to get you removed. I suppose I just realised that it must have been harder, a lot harder than I thought, for both of you. And I’m sorry if I caused you trouble.”

“There’s absolutely no need to apologise, Esmerelda,” Ada said reassuringly. “None of that was your doing.”

“But, it was.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Hecate said firmly, and Esme grew quiet at her insistent tone. “Taking responsibility for your actions is good, yes, but it must only be for _your_ actions, and no one else’s.”

Esme nodded at that, and then sat back, and let a grin spread across her face.

“Congratulations,” she beamed, and Ada couldn’t help but follow suit.

“Thank you, Esmerelda.”

Beside her, Hecate couldn’t keep the corners of her mouth from twitching upward.

“Indeed. Thank you.”

*****

“Agatha’s Coven?” Ada drew back from the mirror, something between anger and alarm seeping into her voice.

“I’m afraid so,” Hellibore huffed. “The Mistress of Avalon’s retreat was a front, and a very poor one at that. Cracked with barely even a nudge. Both Ursula and Ulric Hallow were among those apprehended.”

“Did they admit involvement in the Coven?” Hecate probed.

“Oh, they were very specific. Ursula essentially claimed responsibility for the entire plot,” he nodded. “Said it would be payback. She ranted about wanting to destroy me, and both of you, for losing her place on the Council. Though frankly, at this point I think she’s just making up excuses to attack us. Needless to say, conspiring to assassinate the Great Wizard is no small crime, and I doubt she’ll get less than twenty years. Ulric Hallow too, if I have my way. And don’t ask me to be lenient, Ada.”

“I wasn’t going to,” she shook her head, and Hecate’s eyes snapped to her, brow raised, clearly very surprised. “There is a line, and this is quite a few steps too far.”

The Great Wizard nodded his deference, and leant back in his seat, the mirror shimmering to accommodate. “Well then, on to the matter of their children.”

“If you have no objections, Your Greatness, I would like to inform them of this new development.”

“I would appreciate that, and I certainly don’t envy you.”

Ada looked up to where Hecate stood behind her, and she gave her a soft nod.

“Now, I believe there is an Aunt Mavis that can accommodate… no, wait one moment,” Hellibore flipped a few papers and pulled one from the stack. “I’d forgotten. She’s just been arrested on suspicion of harpy trafficking. By the Code, is there any decent people in that family?”

Hecate let out a soft huff beside her, which Ada took as a no.

“Well then, if it’s all the same to you, they can remain at Cackle’s until term resumes. Presumably by then we’ll have found some distant relative that I haven’t thrown into Greygate Prison.”

“Unlikely,” Hecate muttered, though too quietly for Hellibore to hear, and she gave Ada another nod.

“They can most certainly remain in our care, Your Greatness.”

“Excellent. Now then, I have a mountain of other things I must be attending to, so I’ll bid you good day,” Hellibore said.

“Good day, then,” Ada smiled tightly as he waved his hand and disappeared. She sat back in her seat, and Hecate let out a long breath, moving around the desk and beginning to pace.

“What an absolute disaster.”

“I do not disagree,” Ada spread her fingers and tapped her thumbs together, turning over this new information in her mind.

“We’ll care for them until term begins, and then what? We just ship them off to some distant cousin, to be forgotten and neglected,” Hecate said, and Ada didn’t miss the notes of distress in her voice, and knew this would be causing her more than a little retrospective anxiety.

“Of course not.”

“Then what?”

“What are you thinking, dear. What do _you_ want?”

Hecate didn’t meet her gaze, just stopped in front of her desk and carefully stacked a half dozen books until their corners were perfectly aligned.

“I need to hear you say it, my love,” Ada said gently. “This isn’t the kind of thing we can guess at. There can be no grey areas.”

Hecate let her hands fall to her side and grew rigid, fingers stretching and closing as she considered her words.

“I want to take care of them. You and I. Or at least, I want offer them that option, to stay if they want to, or go… if they want to.”

“And if they choose to stay, then how long?”

“As long as they need.”

“They need stability.”

“Which we can provide.”

“And you’re sure you’re not just saying this because you know I wanted children of our own?”

Hecate stopped her fidgeting and grew still.

“I won’t lie and say it didn’t cross my mind, but no, it’s not about that. This is about providing care to children who are most in need of it. They would not be any more our children than any other student of the academy. We would simply be providing board year round, so to speak.”

“I don’t think that is how it would end up, dear.”

“No, perhaps not.”

Ada rose from her seat and moved to stand in front of her wife, taking her hands and holding her close, meeting her nervous gaze. “I agree with you. I want to offer them a place in our lives. I just need to be certain that it is the best decision, and all things are considered. And I need you to be certain, too.”

“I am,” Hecate nodded. “I could not be more sure.”

*****

Sybil was quickly reduced to tears at the news, and Esme wrapped her in a hug and held her close, while Ethel stood stone-faced beside them.

“I want mum and dad,” Sybil sobbed.

“I don’t,” Ethel said quietly, so quietly Ada almost didn’t catch it. Ethel met her gaze with a fierce determination. “I want to stay here.”

“Ethel,” Esme began, but she was cut off by a sharp glare from Ethel.

“They never cared about me anyway. You can do whatever you want but I’m staying here, at Cackle’s, with Ada and HB.”

“Ethel,” Sybil squeaked between sobs. “We should… stay together.”

“Why? They always loved you more. They probably wouldn’t even realise I was gone.”

Sybil turned her face into Esme’s chest and sobbed harder, and Ethel turned away from them with the good sense to look troubled by the distress she’d caused her sister. She straightened her back, balled her fists and stalked out of the room without another word.

“If it’s okay with you,” Esme asked softly, “could we have a few days to think about it?”

“You can have as long as you need,” Ada nodded, trying for her warmest, most reassuring tone. “And please, take the armchair by the fire, and stay as long as you like.”

The sisters curled up together, and Ada watched Hecate watching them, a potent mixture of anguish and concern clear in her glassy eyes and the twist of her mouth. Ada took her hand and pulled her attention away gently.

“Would you speak to Ethel? Only I think you would know, far better than I, what to say.”

Hecate nodded, eyes darting back to Esme and Sybil before she transferred away with a twist of her fingers.

*****

That night, Sybil dreamt of many dark and unpleasant things. Mostly, she was alone, and her sisters were nowhere to be seen, or worse they had left her, and she sat in a cold room, or an empty house, or a damp wood, and she cried, and screamed, and no one came to her.

When she woke with a start she had tears on her cheeks and someone’s hand on her arm, shaking her awake with a firm jolt, and she looked up into the face of Miss Hardbroom, wrapped in her leather robe, long hair loose. Sybil sunk back, expecting to be reprimanded, until her bleary eyes focused and she saw the tight curve of Miss Hardbroom’s brow, and felt the steadying grip on her arm ease as her teacher straightened.

“A night terror?” HB asked gently, more gently than Sybil had ever heard her speak before. She nodded, scrubbing the tears away with her sleeve.

“I’m sorry,” she squeaked, taking a deep breath and trying to steady her racing heart and forget the vivid feeling of being left behind. “If I woke you or…”

Miss Hardbroom lowered herself to the edge of the bed, shaking her head slightly. “You needn’t be.”

Sybil looked away, rubbing her eyes again, cold sweat making her hands clammy.

“What was it about?” HB asked, but it wasn’t a demanding question, or even a command. It was more like an offer. An offer to listen.

Should she? Esme always said nightmares seemed silly once you said them out loud, and that made them better, because you could see they were nothing more than a flight of fear, and daylight drove them away.

“They left me behind,” she sniffed, the dread welling up again as the words tumbled out.

“Your parents?”

“Everyone.”

“I see,” came the reply, with an understanding nod. Miss Hardbroom made no move to comfort her, but Sybil wasn’t surprised. She didn’t seem like the hugging type. “I hope Miss Cackle… Ada, and I, I hope we have made it clear that as long as you require our assistance, you will have it. And I do not believe for a single moment that your sisters would consider, even in the most dire circumstances, leaving you. Regardless of what Ethel might say when she is upset.”

Sybil bobbed her head but the sentiment hardly made a dent in her distress.

“Sybil,” Miss Hardbroom clasped her hands in her lap, not meeting Sybil’s nervous gaze. “Though I would try, there is nothing I can say that will make this hurt less. Only, perhaps, that one day you will look up, and the sun will be shining, and your sisters will be with you, and you will find that it doesn’t hurt anymore, and that there are many years between you and the hurting. I promise, it will feel better… one day.”

Sybil drew in a shaking, shallow breathed, and nodded.

“It’s okay to be hurting, but make certain it is only for things that are true, and not things that our minds trick us into believing.”

Sybil absorbed her words. She seemed to certain, too calm, to be making all this up on the spot, and not for the first time she wondered what made HB like this. All spikes and sharp words covering what seemed like a marshmallow soft core.

HB stood awkwardly, hovering by the edge of the bed.

“Do you think you can return to sleep?”

Sybil sniffled again and nodded. “I think so.”

“Very well.”

Sybil pulled the covers up over herself, snuggling down and resting her head on the pillow, still watching HB hovering by her bed.

“Do you require more warmth?”

Sybil nodded again, and with a snap of her fingers, HB reignited the hearth, the crackling magical fire instantly casting heat into the room. When HB stepped back from the bed Sybil heard herself squeak, “Please don’t go.”

“I wasn’t going anywhere,” HB responded calmly, lowering herself into the seat by the window and summoning a book to her hand. Sybil rolled over and closed her eyes, hoping for better dreams.

It was a very strange thing, to find comfort in her rigid potions mistress. Yet, as Sybil relaxed back into her pillow, now tucked tightly beneath the sheets, she did find comfort in her being there.  She wasn’t so terrifying, this lady who made pumpkin soup, and baked fresh bread, and scattered roses around her wife’s office, and who married to Miss Cackle. She wasn’t so terrifying at all.

When Sybil woke bleary eyed the next morning, she found HB fast asleep in the chair by her window, head resting back against the cold stone wall, her black cat snoozing in her lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just quickly, if you recognise Alpheus, yep that's him again. I created him for another fic (She Used To Be Mine), and I actually came to really like him, he was such a sweet character, just genuinely good, and sort of acted as a foil to Hecate’s harsh exterior, but then I had to kill him for the story, and it hurt. So I decided to resurrect him for this fic because he can exist in multiple universes (and no one can stop me it’s canon in my heart).


	6. Like Daughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, another chapter! but not the end, I'm sorry! I've added another chapter because things keep on happening and I just have to tell more of the story!

Alpheus’ feet had barely touched the grassy hill before he was vanishing his broom and sweeping Hecate up into a crushing hug. His black hair hung around his shoulders, pushed back away from his face to reveal the same sharp jaw as his sister, and the same dark eyes that always held a fascinated affection for the world around him. His robes were long and black, and just as traditional as Hecate’s.

“Sister,” he grinned, lifting her clean off the ground and holding her there. Once her surprise had melted away, she seemed torn between reprimanding him and holding him tighter. In the end she settled for neither, and gave him a soft pat on the back.

“Brother.”

“You can do better than that, Hic.”

Ada watched as she rolled her eyes and quelled her fears, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and relaxing a fraction, tentatively resting her head on his. When she let him go, Ada was very glad he didn’t jest about the tears in her eyes.

“And my other dear sister, Ada,” he gave her a kiss on the cheek and enveloped her in a warm hug that she returned with a smile. It always surprised her, how much she truly missed him.

“It’s good to see you again, Al.”

“Not as good as it is to see both of you.”

“You must tell us all about Bolivia over lunch,” Ada patted his cheek, giving him a look over and finding him pleasingly in one piece. Hecate transferred his meagre luggage to the spare room they had prepared and tried very hard to keep her tears from spilling forth.

“Oh, will I ever,” Alph laughed. “I have a whole hoard of stories, just you wait.”

He looped his arms around Hecate’s and Ada’s as they walked across the grass to the Castle.

“And I’m keen to hear all about you as well. Hecate’s written nothing but tales of this girl Mildred and her many, many misadventures. What did you call her again? A menace?”

“She is a menace,” Hecate said steadily, eyes narrowing. “Though perhaps that is changing.”

“What’s this?” Alph grinned. “Is my sister getting soft in her old age?”

Ada shook her head fondly.

“Call me old again and I’ll be the menace.”

He just threw his head back and laughed, too used to his sisters idle threats to ever be bothered by them.

“Al!” Pippa’s voice rang out and she appeared in the castle entrance, already grinning from ear to ear. She made no pretence about her excitement and was rushing forward, colliding with a steady Alpheus as he let his sisters go. He lifted her up and spun her around, and both their expressions were pure sunshine.

“Hey, Pip,” he said softly.

“Well met, little brother,” she replied with a squeeze. “I missed you.”

Alph just gripped her closer. When Pippa leant back onto her own feet, she tapped Alph’s nose affectionately and he looked very much like a child again, despite being almost a head taller.

“And what’s this I hear about Bolivia?”

“I’ll tell you all about it, I promise.”

“I do hope so. But I’ll see you inside, I must find Mildred and Sybil and see how the flowers are coming along,” Pippa gave him another tight squeeze and breezed away in search of the girls.

Alph turned to his sisters, brow raised, and dear Goddess he looked so much like Hecate it was uncanny.

“Your disaster prone student Mildred, who, and I quote, ‘will never make a passable witch’, is here, at your school, during the break?” He didn’t bother to hide his jovial and teasing tone.

“That is a long story,” Hecate breathed out. “And one which I will tell you when she is not in earshot.”

Alph turned to Ada conspiratorially and raised an eyebrow with a lopsided smile. “She really is getting soft, isn’t she?”

“You’re playing with fire, dear, and I will not be dragged down with you,” Ada shook her head, and Hecate gave her the soft ‘thank you for taking my side’ smile that made her warm inside.

“I must find Pippa then, she’ll back me up!” Alph chuckled, sweeping into the academy and looking around with a grin. “The more things change, they say… it’s magnificent as ever. But with my sisters at the helm, I’m sure nothing could touch this academy!”

“Yes, well,” Hecate swallowed, not meeting anyone’s eyes, gazing around the entrance hall with a fresh perspective.

Ada just took her hand gently and lead them through the heavy oak doors to the dining hall. Julie, Esme and Ethel were seated at the far end of the table bent over a book, and looked up as they entered.

Ada turned to introduce the three to Alph and found her brother’s grin melting from his face, his breath hitching, his arms suddenly very stiff at his sides. Ada followed his eyeline, and found Julie Hubble looking equally stunned, eyes unblinking, a word caught on her lips.

“… Dave?”

“Dave?” Hecate raised an eyebrow.

“Jules?” Alpheus choked.

“Jules?” Hecate glanced between them, surprise mounting.

“I swear by every goddess,” Alph’s breath shuddered. “If you are a witch…”

“Ms Hubble is most decidedly _not_ a witch,” Hecate stepped up beside him, touching his arm gently, concern evident despite her tone. “Alpheus, what is the matter?”

Alpheus blinked away his daze and looked to his sister.

“It’s her,” he breathed, his mouth twitching between a smile and a grimace.

Hecate’s head jolted back in surprise, her gaze snapping between her brother and their guest.

“The woman you’ve been pining over for a decade… is Julie Hubble?”

Ada half expected a biting remark from Julie, but she remained stunned into silence as she tried desperately to read the situation. Where they lovers? Old friends?

“David… I don’t understand,” Julie rose from her seat and paused. “Is that even your name?”

“No,” Alph shook his head slightly, a thousand apologies etched across his face. “My name is Alph. Alpheus Hardbroom.”

“And… you’re a wizard, I suppose?” Julie’s voice was fairly even.

He nodded, and Hecate let her hand drop from his arm.

“You don’t mean to say…”

At that moment Mildred came clattering and giggling into the hall with Sybil and Pippa in toe, arms full of flowers that they lay onto the table, momentarily oblivious to what they had interrupted. She bounced up to her mother, and held out a blooming azalea.

“I got this one for you, Mum,” Mildred grinned, and Julie tore her eyes from Alph’s and hid over her astonishment with a smile, accepting the pink flower, and resting a hand on her daughter’s arm.

 “Thanks, Millie-bear. It’s beautiful,” Julie made to smell it, but her hands shook, and Millie saw.

Ada’s eyes snapped to her brother, and he was unhealthily pale, and his own hands trembled violently.

“Is something wrong, Mum?” Mildred looked to around, searching for the source of her mother’s distress. Her eyes slid over Alpheus, and she turned back, uncertain. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no of course not. It’s perfect. Thank you,” Julie pulled her into a hug. “Why don’t you arrange these flowers while I just step outside for a moment.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m absolutely fine, love. I’ll be back in a tick,” Julie said, voice extraordinarily steady, and she stepped around Mildred, marching straight past Alpheus, grabbing his hand on the way and dragging him from the room. To his credit, he didn’t protest.

“Who was that?” Mildred asked Ada, confused.

Ada looked to Hecate, and the younger woman took the cue.

“My brother. Alpheus.”

“Does my mum know your brother?”

“I believe so,” Ada offered calmly. “But you’ll have to wait and ask her. Esme, might you help Mildred with those flowers while Hecate and I prepare some tea?”

She gave the girl a meaningful look and was rewarded with stoic nodding. She took Hecate’s hand and transferred them to her office, barely processing what on earth had just transpired. As soon as they materialised, Hecate was reaching out with a finding spell.

“We must find them, before... Goddess knows…”

Ada lay a hand on her arm, pulling her gaze down. “I think we should leave them to talk.

“Mildred… is my brother’s daughter.”

“Well, we don’t know that for…” Ada tried to interject, though it was only half-hearted.

“She looks like him, Ada,” Hecate cut her off with a shake of her head. “She’s just like him! Clumsy and loud… and hardworking and compassionate… and far too ready to meddle in the business of other people.”

“Yes, well when you put it like that.”

“How on earth did I not see it before?”

“Because we weren’t looking, my love.”

“Mildred Hubble is my niece,” Hecate breathed, though she definitely didn’t believe it.

“Yes, dear,” Ada took her other hand to hold her steady.

“Mildred Hubble… is my… niece.”

“Yes, sweetheart, and I hope that won’t change anything.”

“Mildred… Hubble… is…”

“Our niece, darling.”

“Our niece,” Hecate gulped. “We have a…”

“I suppose she wasn’t lying,” Ada almost chuckled. “Last year, when she told Ethel she was my niece. How on earth does that girl always manage to stumble into the truth?”

*****

Julie’s mind alternated completely blanking and hurtling along at light speed.

Dave was Alpheus. Alpheus was a wizard. Alpheus was HB’s brother. Dave was a wizard. Mildred’s father was… Mildred’s father… And he was as soft and as charismatic as she remembered. She couldn’t help but shake her head when he flashed his perfect grin, and she couldn’t help but feel the warmth bubble up inside her when he sat tentatively on the bench beside her and ran his fingers through his hair.

“I don’t blame you, Jules,” he said after a long pause, glancing up at her and meeting her gaze. “I left. And I didn’t make it easy to find me.”

She nodded. This was not a conversation she had ever anticipated having, and it wasn’t exactly going how she had expected. Dave, no, Alpheus… he was being so gentle and understanding. So unlike his sister. So like Millie.

“But, I… that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t very much like to know her now,” he gave another lopsided grin and a soft nod. “With your permission, of course.”

“I think she’d like that. Once she’s got over the shock of it.”

“Shock of it?”

“HB, Miss Hardbroom, your… sister, I guess. Millie’s not exactly been a favourite of hers.”

He let out a huff of laughter and shook his head. “The student who has been giving my sister grief for two years is my daughter? Oh, she’s going to love this.”

They fell silent, both wrestling with a thousand questions and unsure which to ask. Eventually, it was Julie’s curiosity that won out.

“Why did you leave?” she asked, trying to be gentle. “I don’t mean it as an accusation. I just thought it was going so well, and then, well then, it wasn’t going at all.”

Alpheus took in a deep breath.

“I was falling in love with you,” he said, and the sincerity bleed through in every word. “I couldn’t lie to you anymore. I had already lied about so much, and I don’t think… I didn’t think that you would forgive me for that. Or maybe I just didn’t forgive myself.”

Julie took in a shaky breath, and chuckled. “So you’re definitely not a plumber then.”

Alpheus buried his face in his hands.

“It was the only ordinary professor I could think of,” he groaned. “I spent that whole night reading up on non-magical plumbing too, and we never spoke of it again, not once. It was completely useless.”

“Well,” Julie shrugged. “I would have thought you were mad if you had said wizard instead.”

Alph shook his head, grinning. “When I saw you at that table… and I thought you were a witch… and I thought that I had left you for nothing… or worse…”

“I’m not. Not a drop of magic in me, sorry. But Millie, now there’s a witch.”

“Is she brilliant, like you?” Alph asked, entirely serious.

“Yes,” Julie smiled. “But she’s clumsy, and kind, like you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you've enjoyed it! I'm over at @themistsoftime on tumblr if you want to chat.


	7. (Almost) A Family Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter is here. This one is a very short update, but I needed a bit of a pick up so I decided to work on it. As always, I hope you enjoy!

An hour was enough, Ada thought. Well, perhaps not enough, but it was something, at least.

They found Alpheus and Julie sitting side by side on a stone bench in the garden, chatting amicably. It was clear a few tears had been shed, mostly by Alpheus.

They approached tentatively, and Julie and Alph glanced up to greet them. Alph read their concerned expressions and met them with a reassuring smile.

“It’s okay. We’re just… catching up.”

“Indeed,” Hecate’s brow creased as she eyed Julie with new apprehension. “Shall I fetch Mildred?”

“No, I think rather, we should go to her,” Alpheus stood and brushed his robes off. He offered Julie a hand up, which she accepted.

“Absolutely. I’m so sorry, about, well, all that,” Julie said, and Ada immediately brushed it aside with a wave of her hand.

“Nonsense. I think it’s very fair to say none of us anticipated this.”

“Would you mind horribly if we delayed another hour or so. Just so we can talk with Millie,” Julie asked.

“Absolutely,” Ada smiled warmly. “As long as you need. Hecate was just preparing dinner, and I’m sure we can delay. Can’t we, dear?”

“Yes, of course,” Hecate nodded stiffly.

*****

Mildred was practically vibrating out of her skin. She had a terribly endearing grin on her face, and she could barely take her eyes off Alpheus and her mother. When she spoke she tripped over her words, and Ada could see Alpheus’ heart swell, his own lopsided grin an uncanny mirror of his daughter’s.

Before they had been seated, and per Julie’s wishes, everyone had been quietly appraised of the situation. Esmerelda had guessed, and Ethel wasn’t far behind, and Sybil seemed a bit lost, and struggled to make the connections. It all seemed a bit odd, she said. That no one had known. Ada didn’t have an explanation for that. It was only the truth, and the truth was sometimes a bit odd.

Pippa, on the other hand, and nearly had a stroke, and had swiftly gathered Hecate up in a hug and only laughed at her wide eyed staring, tweaking her nose and shaking her head.

“You’re an aunt, Hiccup!”

Hecate’s breathing came shallow at her words, and her eyes darted to Ada, confusion and uncertainty screaming from within her. Ada had only stepped up and taken her hand gently, and Hecate gripped it tight, forcing a breath into her lungs.

“Indeed.”

Hecate would adapt, Ada knew. She always did. It just took her a minute. Or a week. Or a few years. Here’s hoping it would be on the lesser end of that spectrum.

As they sat down to feast, with Mildred and Alpheus unwittingly battling for the title of most staggeringly enthusiastic about the situation, Hecate almost began to relax. They spoke about everything, and Pippa and Hecate graciously encouraged the conversation in Mildred and Alpheus’ direction, letting decades of history spill forth.

She made sure she kept an eye on the Hallow sisters, who were rather quiet, and no doubt feeling a rollercoaster of emotions. She made sure to engage them in conversation, which they clearly appreciated, and praised their fine cooking skills and made certain they knew that their presence at the table was just as important as any other.

She found, as the main course wrapped up, her gaze drifted toward Julie, who struggled to supress a grin and shook her head at Alpheus’ extraordinary tales of his life and his travels, and Mildred’s long list of questions that he answered with grace and a smile. She realised she was watching a woman fighting very hard not to fall in love again, and she wondered what it would take to convince her that loving Alpheus Hardbroom would not be such a terrible thing.

*****

It was drawing late, and the girls were all trying very hard to stifle their yawns. There had been so many emotions, all running high, that had no doubt worn everyone out, and Mildred and Julie still had a way to travel. Ada shepherded them into the entrance hall, and there were many promises to visit again, likely tomorrow or the next day, and many poorly hidden glances between Julie and Alpheus, and many more chattering words between yawns from Mildred.

When they paused in the hall, Ada found her wife’s hand stiff at her side and drew it up to her chest, running a thumb along her soft skin and giving her a softer smile; a ‘this will all be okay. I love you’ smile, and Hecate drew it into her chest and let her own smile touch her lips as their eyes darted to the trio of Hubbles and a Hardbroom.

Julie pulled a small black rectangle from her pocket, and it took a moment for Ada to realise it was one of those devices that ordinary people used to communicate. She tapped at it a moment and handed it to Alpheus, who hurriedly did the same and Ada wasn’t entirely sure what exactly these actions entailed but there was definitely an exchange occurring. Of what, Ada was lost, but Julie and Alpheus seemed rather please, and Ada took it as a good sign.

As she waved her hand and let the doors draw open and let the night air come flooding in, Mildred wrapped Alpheus in a hug and it made Ada tear up just a little. Alpheus returned it with a restrained kind of relief the mad her tear up just a little bit more. Hecate noticed, and squeezed her hand softly and they both pulled themselves together long enough to wave the two newest members of their growing family goodbye.

*****

Ada and Hecate lowered themselves down by the heath in their sitting room, and just as Ada was conjuring a steaming pot of tea she heard a soft knock on the door.

 “Come in,” she said, and turned to find Esme standing in their doorway, tugging at her sleeve nervously. Ada rose and smiled. “Esmerelda. Please, come in, come in.”

Esme stepped inside tentatively, glancing around at the cosy setting, full bookshelves bursting and fresh cut flowers offering a sweet scent that complimented the dried wood of the fire.

“I just umm… I had a talk with Ethel and Sybil. About what you said the other day.”

Ada was suddenly a lot more nervous than she had anticipated, new emotions layering themselves atop all the others. Beside her, Hecate rose too, and hovered back, arms stiff at her sides.

“Would you like to sit and talk?” Ada offered her the seat by the fire, but Esme just shook her head.

“No, it’s okay. I just wanted to say yes. If it’s still okay, we’d like to stay here until next term.”

Ada nodded and smiled her warmest, most sincerely relieved smile. “Thank you for letting us know. We’ll be sure to make certain everything is in order.”

“And I,” Esme swallowed, fidgeting again. “I know today has been a lot. With your brother and Mildred and all that. But I promised I’d ask so I will. Could we stay after that as well? Until we can’t anymore. It’s just… Sybil and Ethel, they’re so much happier here than they ever were at home. And if we had to go back, or live with someone else…”

Esme trailed off and Ada stepped forward, laying a hand on the girls arm to steady both of them.

“Absolutely. We meant it, when we offered. As much as you need, for as long as you need.”

Ada felt Hecate step up behind her, still rigid.

“Are you… would you adopt us, if our parents go to prison?”

Ada’s heart hammered against her chest and leapt into her throat as her gaze snapped back to Hecate, who said nothing, wrestling emotion from her own expression.

“That’s something we would all have to discuss together, I think,” Ada offered. “You’re sisters too. But we would be very lucky, to have three daughter such as yourselves. Very lucky indeed.”

Esme took in a deep breath. “Umm, good night then,” she nodded awkwardly, and slipped out without another word, leaving Ada and Hecate fused to the stones beneath their feet, half shocked, half relieved, and completely exhausted.


End file.
